Monday, March 16, 2015

HEIDI JOHNSON-WRIGHT ON THE ADA



STRONGTOWNS PODCAST LINK

A weekly conversation on the Strong Towns movement hosted by Charles Marohn. The podcast blends fiscal prudence with good urban design to highlight how America can financially strengthen its cities, towns and neighborhoods and, in the process, make them better places to live.

This week Chuck talks to Heidi Johnson-Wright, an ADA coordinator in Miami Dade County, about the Americans with Disabilities Act.

http://shoutengine.com/StrongTownsPodcast/heidi-johnson-wright-on-the-ada-7556


Tuesday, March 10, 2015

COMPLETE STREET WITH INCLUSIVE DESIGN

FROM STRONG TOWNS.ORG

By Heidi Johnson-Wright



““...(P)aralyzed limbs may not particularly limit a person’s mobility as much as attitudinal and physical barriers. The question centers on ‘normality’. What, it is asked, is the normal way to be mobile over a distance of a mile? Is it to walk, drive one’s own car, take a taxicab, ride a bicycle, use a wheelchair, roller skate, or use a skate board, or some other means?””
— Prof. David Pfeiffer, Ph.D, internationally recognized scholar in the field of disability studies, and polio survivor 



Strong towns must also be inclusive towns, communities that welcome everyone. Places where people of all abilities can live, work and get around. Rights of way that are safe and accessible to folks with a range of mobility needs.

What's it like to navigate streets as a wheelchair user? What works? What doesn't?
I have been using a wheelchair as my principal means of mobility for four decades, so I'm always seeking smooth, wide and level surfaces. I want the safest and most comfortable path of travel possible. As someone who has worked as an ADA compliance and public works professional, I'm always analyzing sidewalks, streetscapes, curb and gutter, curb ramps and crosswalks. My eyes are drawn to concrete work, to the types of pavers used, to detectable warnings and the placement of bus shelters.

Sometimes, the smallest details make all the difference.



For me, the ideal accessible pedestrian path of travel is as wide as the sidewalks lining the great avenues of New York City. Plenty of room for walkers, wheelers, babies in strollers and then some. Lots of space for me to safely pass around slow walkers when I'm in a hurry. It's disquieting when someone half a block ahead sees me approaching and yanks their child out of my oncoming path. Sometimes the sight of the poor kid flying through the air jolts me so much, I whip around to see if I’ve unknowingly left a row of maimed bodies behind in my wake.

Even pricey, well-made wheelchairs have limits to their suspension. If I could, I'd pave the paths of the Earth with the rubber safety surfaces used on playgrounds. Smooth, seamless and shock-absorbing makes me smile. But given real-world requirements, smooth concrete with narrow stress joints works for me. I also love wide, flat flagstones like the ones used throughout Barcelona.

I dislike even the smoothest of pavers and despise brickwork. What looks like tiny seams to walkers means major up-and-down bumping for wheelers. Even a two-block trip with a Starbuck's latte in hand results in coffee spills on my lap and a subsequent trip to the dry cleaners. Longer trips over bumpy terrain mean repeated, sustained jarring that can trigger serious pain for folks with arthritis and other disabilities. Don't even get me started on tree well pavers or grates. Properly maintained Addapave tree pits are a much better choice.



Let's talk about curb ramps. Their mundane appearance is deceiving. My number one biggest complaint is the use of the cookie-cutter clip-art curb ramp design where it doesn't belong. You know the one I mean. It's the copy-and-paste design architects use in drawings where building perimeters meet sidewalks and parking lots.

There are many different designs of curb ramps that can be found in state DOT roadway design standards. Why? Because differences in terrain and limitations of space require different ramp designs in order to be compliant and safe. Level landings at top and bottom are essential. The top landings in particular must be unobstructed. I can't count how many times I've reached the top of a curb ramp only to nearly run into a pedestrian signal pole or other irritating impediment. And please no meter boxes on the slope or storm sewer grates at the bottom. Be sure there's a level, two-foot transition to the gutter, or wheelers who forget to fasten their seat belts are likely to be ejected.

Don't design curb ramps at the maximum 1:12 slope, but rather 1:14. In fact, the feds say they're to be designed with the minimum possible slope. And please: TWO curb ramps per corner instead of a single diagonal ramp. Drivers can't tell where a wheeler is headed when he or she comes off the diagonal into the street. And unless the corner, ramp, intersection and crosswalk are all expertly designed in harmony, wheelers often must go out into the active vehicular way in order to cross. Many times I've had to cross using a diagonal ramp and felt air displacement from cars passing along next to me.

And finally, nothing makes steam come out of my ears like rolling along and being foiled by an easily preventable impediment or detour. Pedestrian paths of travel are in flux and must always be monitored. Coordination between local public works, transit, utilities, and state DOT is essential to preventing obstructions caused by landscaping, light poles, street signs, signal boxes, bus shelters, bus benches, newspaper boxes, bike racks, etc.



Just as bad are sidewalks suddenly blocked off with little or no warning. In this case, I’m not talking about the simple sidewalk or lane work, or an emergency fix of a broken water main. I mean many months of torn up or obstructed rights of way due to long-term construction projects which provide no alternative, accessible, safe pathway. What is a minor problem for a walker who can easily re-route can prove to be an extremely inconvenient -- even dangerous -- situation for someone in a wheelchair.

I’ve encountered this situation numerous times. Most recently, I was attempting to get to a doctor’s office for a first-time appointment. Due to limited parking options, I had to search for an on-street space. I found spaces one block away, but the swale had obstructions that blocked my van’s ramp from deploying. I had to settle for an on-street space four blocks away.

After parking, I rolled along a couple blocks with bumpy sidewalks and corners with dangerously steep curb ramps. But the worst was saved for last. The final block to the doctor’s office was impassable due to major construction that had closed off the sidewalk. My only real option was to cross to the other side of the street, roll down the block, then cross back over. Problem was, the street I had to cross was four lanes plus a turn lane. Drivers fly down it like a highway. The closest signalized crossing was three blocks the other way. A kind lady who saw my dilemma crossed with me at an unsignalized but clearly marked pedestrian crosswalk. I am forever grateful, knowing how wheelchair users have a lower profile than walkers. This makes us like the amphibious targets in a real-life version of the classic video game, Frogger.

Navigating a few blocks should not be so complicated and so dangerous. Elected officials need initiatives such as New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio’s Vision Zero push to eliminate traffic deaths. Planners, traffic engineers, capital projects managers and public works departments that issue rights of way permits need more common sense designs and policies.

All of these things should be formulated with input from the disability community. Each county, city, town and village should have an advisory committee comprised of local folks with disabilities. Those involved in streetscape design should consult orientation and mobility trainers who work with the visually impaired. People who are blind learn to navigate through the world in specific ways. Design compatible with those methods often equals good, sensible design.

The federal Proposed Guidelines for Pedestrian Facilities in the Public Right-of-Way address access for blind pedestrians at street crossings, wheelchair access to on-street parking, and various constraints posed by space limitations, roadway design practices, slope, and terrain. These guidelines -- which are expected to become mandatory and enforceable within a year or two -- will cover pedestrian access to sidewalks and streets, including crosswalks, curb ramps, street furnishings, pedestrian signals, parking, and other components of public rights-of-way.

Now’s the time to focus on inclusive design.



http://www.strongtowns.org/journal/2015/3/2/complete-street-with-inclusive-design


Thursday, March 5, 2015

LITTLE HAVANA REVITALIZATION IS A GOOD THING



BUT ANY REZONING MUST PRESERVE CHARACTER AND AUTHENTICITY

Editor's Note: We have known Bill Fuller for more than a decade. He is by far the most responsible developer in Miami. This week, we received an open letter from him, urging Little Havana stakeholders to demand more from the City of Miami before it upzones a portion of the neighborhood. Bill is a visionary who understands preservation, walkability and authenticity. He urges City leaders to slow down and do more to protect the authenticity of Little Havana, so speculators do not build out-of-scale development.  We note that some of our town planning friends support the pending upzoning as is.  Our publishing of Bill Fuller's letter is not a blanket endorsement of everything he is suggesting, but the essence of his ideas is brilliant -- so we are publicizing his careful thoughts here:

Dear fellow stakeholders, 

We are at a critical moment that will forever impact the future of our beloved Little Havana. 
Before we rush into upzoning and historic designation recently initiated by the City of Miami, we should slow down and carefully study all of the impacts on existing and future: residents, buildings, businesses, scale and way of life. 

Any designation of historic preservation or upzoning should come in tandem with a “conservation district” overlay that will prescribe the look and feel of future developments surrounding historic Little Havana.  

As stakeholders who love everything Little Havana is and can be, we must make sure that future developments are consistent with the context and character of the neighborhood.  

An overlay, that will preserve what is good and improve what needs to be enhanced, must include strong guidelines that regulate:

·         The architectural style of new developments 
·         The size, scale, style and character of public spaces
·         Mixed-use development that encourages ground floor retail with residences above
·         Land use in a way that preserves the walkable urban fabric that has served the neighborhood for a century
·         Out of scale uses, such as superblock developments that vacate streets, or supersized retail sites that that destroy the very urban flavor that has made the area so desirable to investors 

Little Havana is a neighborhood known throughout the world.

Locals and visitors alike adore it for arts, culture and authenticity.

Adaptive re-use, properly-scaled infill development and growth that accommodates a healthy range of household incomes are not only welcomed, they should be encouraged by legislation that accommodates them without ruining the neighborhood’s diverse flavor.

While there certainly is room for national retailers, they should not be allowed to destroy Little Havana’s world-renown character by building standard, off the shelf suburban buildings with seas of parking for their drug stores, banks and restaurants.

The City of Miami’s landmark Miami 21 zoning code was passed with the explicit intent of preserving all the wonderful human scale, unique architecture and mainstreet business corridors that make its diverse neighborhoods unique.

Sadly, since Miami 21, the City’s most famous street – Calle Ocho – has been violated by a parade of suburban-style, boring buildings that do nothing to preserve and enhance the beloved historic character of Little Havana. 

Soon, another development by a national company headquartered hundreds of miles from Miami will build a suburban, drive-through monstrosity on Calle Ocho.  This bank, on the corner of SW 12th Avenue and SW 8th street, will have nothing in common with the architectural style and scale that made Calle Ocho the spiritual heart of the city.

These suburban developments destroy the very authenticity that draws artists, entrepreneurs, innovators, startup restaurants and visitors to Little Havana.

A well-crafted overlay must be created within Miami 21 and it must have teeth enough to prevent the remaining good city blocks from being destroyed.  

Several established media sources have reported that a group that operates car dealerships has assembled a lot of land in the part of Little Havana that the City of Miami is fast tracking for an upzoning.

Car dealerships create jobs and commerce. They have their place in greater Miami. No one is saying otherwise.

But can you imagine a huge car dealership -- with its sea of asphalt to display cars and accommodate customers, street trees savagely clear cut to open a view to the giant showroom and architecturally obscene compound of repair bays, body shop and more – taking up several blocks in our newly-minted residential historic district?

This is not a case of wanting to impose Coral Gables-like zoning and beautification standards on the proud working class neighborhoods of Little Havana.

This is simply a matter of drawing the line and demanding that horrifically out of scale superblock developments do not destroy our neighborhood.

City leaders would not dare allow a giant auto dealership, or super warehouse club retailer in any of the dozens of historic and significant neighborhoods that define our diverse Miami.

So why should Little Havana’s people get second- or third-class treatment by imposing a monstrosity that would destroy livability for several blocks in every direction?

But a car dealership or other quality-of-life crushing superblock development will soon be a reality if we do not push the City of Miami to place a use restriction on developments that endanger the vision have for our preserved and re-energized neighborhood.  

We support logical progress. But we must ask our city to slow down, so we stakeholders can determine exactly what the strategy is being considered. We must determine whether it is a holistic approach for the neighborhood, or tweak to benefit only a few deep-pocketed investors.

I have not seen one developer or champion of the upzoning come forward to explain its holistic benefit to our community.

I strongly support historic preservation. But I fear a proposed historic district, without considering the entire neighborhood, is a smoke screen created to placate skeptics while deflecting our attention from the true core issue of a city rushing to upzone a neighborhood coveted by speculators.

As stakeholders that have worked hard to preserve Little Havana’s authenticity, I do not believe we can support a rush to upzone.

I urge you to stand united in our demand for a holistic rezoning plan that preserves the character of the neighborhood we so dearly love.

Sincerely,

Bill Fuller
Miami native, preservationist, investor in adaptive re-use buildings and vigilant activist to preserve the heritage and authenticity of Little Havana

                                                                       Bill Fuller




Wednesday, March 4, 2015

THE STORY OF PEDRO THE CHIHUAHUA


A MORALITY TALE ON DURABLE MEDICAL EQUIPMENT

By Heidi Johnson-Wright


This is the story of Pedro, a Chihuahua. When Pedro was born, his parents welcomed him into the world, although he was different than his other siblings. You see, Pedro had no front legs, which is a pretty tough predicament for a dog. His family took good care of him, but by the time he was weaned, it was clear Pedro was going to need wheels.

So, his parents checked with their health insurer about their durable medical coverage, which is a fancy phrase for “are they gonna pay for a wheelchair or not?”

“Well,” said the client care representative, (which is a fancy phrase for someone who works in a boiler room in Waterloo, Iowa and follows a script on a computer screen) “you have coverage at 100 percent, but only for a chair made from paper clips, Fun-Tak and old Tonka truck wheels.”

Pedro’s mom and dad were not pleased to hear this. Not at all. So they began talking with rehab experts and disability ergonomic specialists and doing research online. To be able to run and play like the other dogs, Pedro needed a Canine Wheel-X 9000. This was no ordinary chair. It was made from titanium, aircraft aluminum and water-resistant micro fiber -- and absolutely no Fun-Tak. His parents got a prescription and letter of medical necessity from Pedro’s doctor, along with a cost estimate for the chair. They submitted these, along with an appeal letter, to their insurance company. Weeks later, they received a letter back.

The letter was lengthy and technical and somehow both overly polite yet very dehumanizing, or in this case, de-canine-izing. The upshot was: either accept the crappy uncomfortable, one-size-fits-most chair of paper clips and Fun-Tak at no out-of-pocket cost, or spend a prince’s ransom of their own money to get Pedro what he needed, i.e. the Canine Wheel-X 9000.

Being dedicated parents who loved Pedro very much, they bought him the Canine Wheel-X 9000. Pedro was overjoyed, and once he received his custom-fitted new chair that actually accommodated his needs, he went tearing around the neighborhood. Soon, Pedro was chasing cats and retrieving sticks. He was even able to use the fire hydrant on his own, whereas before, he always fell over without someone to lean against.

But Pedro was no dim bulb. No sir-ee. He was well aware that his family had been forced to move out of their custom Dogloo A-frame into a cardboard box. And mom was stretching the daily meal of Science Diet by adding sawdust. This was because his family had to scale back on costs because of what they paid for his Canine Wheel-X 9000.

So, Pedro began collecting up the – how can we say this politely? – “end products” of his digestive process. Day after day he saved them and after he had a huge pile, put it all into a paper bag. He put it on a little trailer and hauled it very, very far – all the way across town to the home of the company president of his family’s health insurance provider. On the president’s doorstep, when no one was looking, Pedro dumped the heavy paper sack onto the stoop. He lit the sack with a match and then knocked on the door by kicking it.

Then -- because he had the right wheelchair that accommodated his needs -- he was able to run like hell. Once across the street, Pedro watched as the door opened, a man came out and began stomping out the flaming bag. Then the man examined his own shoes and cursed a blue streak.

It was a long trip back home, but Pedro ran briskly, his little tail wagging the whole way.

THE END.

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